


Somethin' of Mine

by JRC



Series: The Token Harem AU™ [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Amputation, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Omega Jesse McCree
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-07 21:56:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20824436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JRC/pseuds/JRC
Summary: "You took somethin' of mine, Jesse McCree," Ashe snarled, and he could hear her sorting through a pile of metal objects somewhere behind his head. "And I'm damn well gonna get it back before I let you outta my sight again."Oh, he did not like that tone of voice. That was the voice Ashe used when she was about to teach a lesson, at least in her words. Usually it meant violence. And lots of it. It took a moment for his mind to catch up, after processing her words fully."Wait a minute - I never stole nothin'! Not from you, not from Deadlock. So what are you..." Jesse choked on his own words as he fought to stifle a scream of pain.





	Somethin' of Mine

**Author's Note:**

> TW/CW for literal amputation by hostile former companions, so handled in a gruesome manner with blood and pain and stuff. Implied death of minor characters at the end.

When McCree awoke, it was with a hiss of pain as he raised a shaking hand to his head, where a throbbing sensation had set in at the base of his skull. When he pulled his hand back, he saw blood shining in the faint light of wherever he had been dragged away to, and cursed beneath his breath. It looked as though he had been thrown into some kind of closet, given how little room to move he had, and the low light creeping beneath the door, barely enough to make out his compact surroundings by. 

Fuck. He'd gone and done it this time. The job was supposed to be easy. In and out and catch the poisoner and their stab-happy side-kick. He should have gone back to base. He should have tried harder to get a hold of Gabe or Jack. He should have brought back-up. But no, his dumb ass had to go and try to take them out by himself. No reason to bother the old lovebirds, he remembered thinking to himself. It was an open and shut case. Two sloppy murderers. That's all. He'd fought worse odds in the past. He could handle it. Besides, one of them was an omega, and in nine out of ten cases, that meant nothing more than a screaming weakling with an Alpha bodyguard to overcompensate.

He should have fucking known better. Gabe was an omega, and fuck, look at him; a solid wall of muscle for the past ten years Jesse had known him for. Jesse was no delicate flower either... he shouldn't have underestimated his mark like he had. Because now... now he was in trouble.

Jesse pushed himself up into a seated position with a grunt, tugging off his shirt and balling it up, pressing it to the base of his skull in the interest of not bleeding out. He closed his eyes and struggled through the waves of pain crashing repeatedly over his mind to recall the previous night's events. He'd tracked down the couple easily enough. A thin, wiry looking omega and her hulking Alpha partner. The alarm bells hadn't started ringing soon enough. 

He'd met the pair down at the bar of the tavern he had been staking out. Slid into a seat next to the omega and played dumb, dressed like your run of the mill bodyguard looking for work. He'd known there was something wrong with her accent, but he hadn't recognized her voice until it was too late. He'd been stupid. Had let her buy him a drink and since he watched the bartender the whole time, he drank it. But it'd been laced. 

And when Jesse all but slipped off the stool he'd been perched on, trying to ply the poisoner for information, her Alpha friend heaved him up over one shoulder as the omega peeled off a mask that looked like nothing more than a layer of skin. At first, he thought he'd been hallucinating. Wondered for a split second what the hell he'd been drinking. But his mind struggled past the delirium just long enough for Jesse's heart to all but stop beating. It was a mask, a fucking freaky one, but he knew the face beneath it. He knew her. Damn, he knew her better than he'd ever wanted to know a person. Fucking Ashe, from the Deadlock gang, and her brute of a butler, Bob.

Jesse's nerves felt absolutely frayed through, like a shirt worn until it simply fell right off a man. Goddamn. Of all the people to meet on a case... and to meet alone, at that. Maybe if he'd had backup, he could have made it out of the tavern. But it hardly mattered now. Jesse wasn't so sure he'd ever make it out of here, wherever the hell here was. Ashe had promised that if she ever saw him again, she'd kill him. He supposed that's what happened when you ratted out your gang to the authorities. He'd thought they were far enough away. But maybe nowhere was far enough. Not to avoid the she-devil herself. 

The omega squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to focus on the situation at hand, and how the hell he could get out of it. Feeling sorry for himself wasn't going to help him see another sunrise. Ashe had always been reckless, impulsive, driven by her emotions. He could use that to his advantage, when she inevitably came to... to what? To bully him? Torture him? Kill him? Hell, why was he still alive in the first place? 

Focus. He had to focus, if he wanted to get out of this. And damn, he wanted to get out of this. 

That hadn't always been the case. When Gabe and Jack had dragged him out of Deadlock, Jesse hadn't given a damn whether he lived or died for months. It was all he knew how to do. To just shut everything away, tuck it into a back corner of his mind and lock the door on it. That's what happened, in a dog eat dog world like Deadlock. In the world that Jesse had presented in, had been fought over and torn into again and again. Just for being an omega. It was easier not to think about it. Thinking about it would mean breaking. And Jesse refused to break. 

This wouldn't be so different from Deadlock. After all, Ashe had been in charge there, too. So what, if now she was leaving behind a trail of corpses with purple lips and grisly stab wounds? She'd taken Jesse alive. That counted for something. And he'd gotten out of Deadlock, one way or the other. He could get out of this. He could, he insisted to himself, wrestling with the tendrils of fear that kept creeping around the edges of his mind.

He'd had help to escape Deadlock, after all. And he'd gone out solo this time. He wouldn't even blame Gabe and Jack for abandoning him. It was no less than what he deserved. Jesse's head shot up at that, causing the small room around him to seem to spin as he adjusted after the abrupt motion. Damn. He hadn't thought like this in a long time. Heaving a deep sigh, he swapped hands pressing his shirt against his head, and flexed his numb fingers, willing them to prickle back to life. Suppose that's what happens when you open old scars, he tried to reason.

Footsteps echoed suddenly in the space beyond the door, and Jesse's heart leapt into his chest, adrenaline pumping through his veins, which caused him to jump when he heard a door creak and then slam loudly shut. He rolled forward onto the balls of his feet, crouching just behind the door, eyes locked on the faint light beneath the door for any distortions that would indicate someone's arrival. The footsteps thudded closer and closer, and there had been no change in the light beneath the door, and Jesse frowned, perplexed.

His reflexes were good; better than most. That's what years of living under the constant threat of being jumped and beaten or worse did to a man. And Jesse didn't brag about that, had never really considered himself a proud man, but he still felt the blow more mentally than he did physically when the door to his little prison was whipped open and a hand was wrapped around his neck, faster than he could have blinked. 

His face reddened almost as much from the humiliation as the asphyxiation when the Alpha, Bob, hauled him up by his throat and carried him out of the closet, leaving his bloodied shirt behind, and held him up for Ashe to inspect. The omega, free of her creepy skin mask, merely arched an eyebrow up at Jesse and clicked her teeth disapprovingly. 

"Damn. And here I thought you might even make a fuss," Ashe's drawl came over the ringing in Jesse's ears, before he watched her nod her head and lead the way over to the corner of the large, open room. Spots danced across his vision as he watched Ashe run a hand through her hair, dyed jet black instead of its natural white color, and point to a table with leather straps down the sides. 

All the wind that remained in Jesse's strained lungs was forced out of them when he was dropped unceremoniously onto the table, and held in place by Bob as Ashe walked around the table, pinning Jesse in place with her leather straps and fancy buckles. He fought hard to keep his hands from trembling as he sucked in breath after breath, and felt hardened leather shackles wrap around his wrists. "Now be a good boy, Jesse, and don't move," Ashe cooed. Damn, like he was going anywhere in the first place, winded and pinned like he was. 

The spots in his vision have faded by the time Ashe stopped by his head, smirking down at him like a cat with a bird trapped between its paws. "There," she hummed, almost cheerfully (the sadistic bitch), tapping one of the straps binding Jesse's wrist down to the table. It's too tight, and he knew as soon as she fastened it that it'd cut off his circulation before long. That might be sooner than he thought, given the way his hand tingled at the sudden prod. "Can't have our guest feeling uncomfortable, now, can we Bob?"

Jesse knew it was a rhetorical question. And so did the butler, as he (predictably) did not respond. He'd never spoken, at least not that Jesse had heard. Or any of the Deadlock assholes he used to know. He wondered idly if Ashe did something to him to make him mute. He wouldn't put it past her, at least.

"Well then. How d'you like your new accommodations, _partner_?" Ashe asked, leaning in and digging her nails into Jesse's cheek to get his attention. "See, we saw you snooping around that tavern. Recognized ya as that punk little bitch we picked up off the streets so many years ago. Only to have ya turn around and try ta dump us in a whole lotta hot water."

"Y'know, I'm starting to think I liked the peace and quiet of that closet I woke up in a bit more'n this. People are always sayin' isolation is bad for ya, but I dunno, seemed like better company than you two," Jesse drawled, deliberately not flinching as Ashe dug her nails in harder, and he felt one of them pierce his skin.

"Cheeky little shit," the omega hissed, pulling her hand back only long enough to seize a handful of Jesse's hair, and yank it up hard enough to make his spine groan in protest. "I see some things never change," she frowned, glaring down at Jesse like he'd kicked her dog. Well... given how she treated the members of Deadlock, that's probably exactly how Ashe felt about what Jesse had done.

"And give you exactly what you wanted?" Jesse barked out a laugh, testing her limits, against his own instincts that were screaming for him to be still, be silent. Being still and silent had saved his life more than once in the past. Especially in Deadlock. "Never, sweetheart."

Ashe made some sort of sound that Jesse supposed was meant to be a growl, but came out as more of a frustrated whine, before he stopped supposing anything at all as the other omega slammed his head back down onto the table. The pain had him biting back tears and struggling not to turn his head and vomit, but damn, he wouldn't give her the satisfaction. He was sure she'd stained the table with his blood; maybe even fresh blood, because from the feel of it, the point where his head had met the table was precisely where he'd taken the hit that rendered him unconscious the previous night.

"You took somethin' of mine, Jesse McCree," Ashe snarled, and he could hear her sorting through a pile of metal objects somewhere behind his head. "And I'm damn well gonna get it back before I let you outta my sight again."

Oh, he did _not_ like that tone of voice. That was the voice Ashe used when she was about to teach a lesson, at least in her words. Usually it meant violence. And lots of it. It took a moment for his mind to catch up, after processing her words fully.

"Wait a minute - I never stole nothin'! Not from you, not from Deadlock. So what are you..." Jesse choked on his own words, clamping his mouth shut to muffle his own screaming as he felt a knife sink into his left forearm to the hilt. He looked down, and found to his horror that while he'd been fixated on Ashe and her ominous words, Bob had stepped around the table and drawn a pocketknife... whose new hilt appeared to be Jesse's muscles.

"Why of course you did, silly," Ashe's voice came from just behind Jesse, saccharine sweet. He shivered violently as he felt the omega's nails run almost gently along his scalp, from back to front, before she leaned over his head and smirked in a decidedly unfriendly fashion. "All my Deadlock boys belong to me. 'Long as they got my mark."

Jesse howled in pain as he felt Bob withdraw the knife from his arm, then sink it back in on the other side, but Ashe leaned forward and sealed her lips around his, swallowing down his pained cries. When she pulled back, she grinned down at Jesse like a viper, reaching up to wipe her mouth clean afterwards. As if he were the filthy one here.

"Like I said, sugar," Ashe purred, trailing her fingers down Jesse's cheek, the column of his neck, then down his shoulder and right to where his arm was bleeding profusely. "You stole somethin' from me," she whispered, leaning in and pressing a delicate kiss to the Deadlock tattoo on Jesse's throbbing, bloodied arm.

Jesse blacked out. Or maybe he only blocked it out. How the hell should he know which it was, at this point? All he knew was he could hardly breathe by the time Bob leaned over his arm and snapped the bone, tossing what remained of Jesse's forearm away carelessly, where it landed behind him with a sickening squelching sound. The omega sucked in desperate breaths, his head spinning even lying still as he was, probably from the blood loss.

Was he going to die? This was hardly his first rodeo, and yet... Jesse hadn't lost a limb before. That was a new threshold of pain. Even for Gabe and Jack. _Fuck_. Gabe and Jack. He was going to miss those old bastards, he thought, even as he fought to keep from blacking out from the pain again. He deserved to kick the bucket, running off on his own, to handle this on his own. They'd have come with him. All he had to do was ask. But his proud ass had gone off on his own, and now... After perhaps the least pleasant reuinion of his life, Jesse McCree realized with startling clarity that he was an absolute fucking idiot. A proud, ignorant fool, who worried all the people around him and ran off when shit got hard. And to think, he'd gone and run off on the only two people ever to give a damn about his busted, contradictory omega ass. 

He could hear Ashe speaking in low tones to Bob somewhere in the distance. He caught the words 'ransom' and 'trouble,' but his pain-addled mind struggled to form sentences, let alone deduce what the pair might be discussing. His throat ached from the screaming, and he could no longer feel his left arm at all. At least that was a blessing. Never one for religion, Jesse thanked whatever kind of power that be that might exist for that small grace. His eyelids felt like solid lead, and it was only the tiny, frantic voice in the back of his mind that kept him from letting them fall shut, and maybe stay that way for good. He recalled some faint advice about blood loss and not sleeping, but goddamn if he wasn't too fucked up by then to remember it properly. 

Jesse's eyes flew open as he heard an explosion go off on the other side of the empty room, and he struggled to lift his head, but only succeeded in inducing another dizzy spell that made him retch. Bob's heavy footsteps were running towards the sound, and Jesse felt Ashe's hands working frantically at the straps binding him down to the table. What the hell, his groggy mind supplied helpfully. What the hell is she doing?

It wasn't until Jesse felt himself being dragged off the table that he was able to look around and take in what had happened. Bob was standing at the other side of the room with his hands in the air, but his eyes radiating pure hatred from beneath that stupid hat of his, towards a man with a vicious looking bow aimed directly at the Alpha's heart. Jack and Gabe were glaring over the sights of their crossbows at Ashe, who has manhandled Jesse off the table and into position in front of her. A human fucking shield.

Gabe's face was unnaturally pale, and Jesse thought he could see Jack's hand trembling on his crossbow trigger. He flashed a weary smile at his adoptive fathers, hoping he didn't look at bad as he felt. Covered in blood, shaking from head to toe, tear-stained and half-delirious. He'd been such a fool to think they weren't coming for him - of course they were. They weren't gonna shoot Ashe while she had Jesse slung over herself. He closed his eyes for a moment, pushing past the blood loss for a coherent train of thought, maybe something he could say to let Gabe and Jack know how much he loved them - 

A sickening crunch sounded just behind his ear, and Jesse jumped, then stumbled and fell to the ground as Ashe fell to the ground behind him. He blinked a few times, dazed to feel a warm wetness on his cheek that hadn't been there before, but he couldn't reach up to see whether it was tears or something more sinister without overbalancing, or worse, trying to use what little remained of his left forearm to keep his fool ass from kissing the stone floor. There was a roar of protest from the other side of the room, and two pairs of footsteps rushing up to Jesse, before there was another crunching sound and a heavy thud far off.

His vision was swimming, and Jesse figured the blood loss was taking its toll on him. He moved to lift his head to see what all the commotion was about, but found Gabe and Jack both dropping to their knees in front of him, Jack already ripping his cloak off and setting to work on making a tourniquet for Jesse's arm. He wobbled where he sat for a moment, until Gabe noticed and caught him up in his arms, hugging Jesse close to his chest. The embrace was warm, and soft, and it was exactly what Jesse needed.

"Sorry, boss," he mumbled, inhaling the comforting scent that was Gabe before he finally closed his eyes. "Got a lil' cocky," he admitted, fairly certain his words were slurring together.

"No shit, _mijo_," Gabe chuckled, but it sounded strained even to Jesse, who knew the difference between angry Jack and sarcastic Gabe. "Hey, just stay with us, alright Jess?"

Jesse hissed as he felt Gabe's hand move to cradle his head, and the other omega sucked in a sharp breath when his hand came back wet with blood. "Fuck," he snarled, wiping his hand on his own cloak before carefully supporting Jesse by the shoulder instead. "Jack, he's bleeding here too. We gotta get him back to the palace. Stitches and bandages and..."

A third person had knelt down behind Jesse, who jumped when he felt calloused fingers run along the back of his neck, causing the omega to tense up. Gabe leaned in to bat the person's hand away, and Jesse heard a quiet male voice apologize. "He should make a full recovery," the new voice concluded, and Jesse could hear their joints creak as they stood up. "I have... seen similar damage before. We just need to move quickly."

"No shit," Gabe growled, gripping Jesse's remaining hand in his own, and giving it a tight squeeze. "Hold on, Jesse. Soon as Jack's done, we're getting the hell out of here. You'll be alright."

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, don't hate me, it's character development, it's important. I love my boy McCree. But you gotta break some eggs to make some good characters, amiright?


End file.
